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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128698">Price to Pay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicofthepen/pseuds/magicofthepen'>magicofthepen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What We Choose [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Background Leela/Narvin, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Multi, discussions of trauma, everyone's having a bad time, hello and welcome to another Romana Finds Out About Narvin's Skaro Mission fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:16:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicofthepen/pseuds/magicofthepen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Gallifrey begins the slow march towards all-out war with the Daleks, information about an old CIA mission comes to light.</p><p>Narvin, it turns out, has a lot of explaining to do.</p><p>Set before Gallifrey: Time War 1.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leela/Narvin/Romana II, Leela/Romana II, Narvin/Romana II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What We Choose [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128212/chapters/71507184">Defying Reason</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128548/chapters/71507934">Call It Home</a>, but can stand alone (the main background is that Romana/Leela/Narvin are all together romantically by the time of this fic.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A Time Lord can sense the ebb and flow of each moment, know how much time is slipping by. But every morning when Narvin jolts awake, it still feels like he only just collapsed into bed.</p><p>This morning the greatest evidence of the passage of time is Romana curled up beside him. Late last night, just as they were both about to go to sleep, she had to slip away to meet a team of agents who returned suddenly after encountering Dalek scouts. Apparently she did finish the meeting in time for a brief rest — he must have been out already when she climbed into bed.</p><p>On his other side, Leela is fast asleep. Narvin and Romana try their best not to wake her when they end up going to bed long after she does or getting up much earlier, by virtue of both biology and workload. But Leela’s also a heavier sleeper than either of them, and has become even more so as she’s grown used to a pair of Time Lords sneaking in and out of her bed at odd hours of the night. It’s easier to avoid disturbing her these days. </p><p>The first evidence that Romana is awake is a groan muffled into the pillow, a groan that suggests she’s not particularly happy with her current state of consciousness. Experience suggests she’ll be groggy for at least another ten microspans and irritable for half the morning. </p><p>“When did you get to sleep?” Narvin whispers. </p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” she says, still muffled. “Tell me I don’t have anything too important this morning.”</p><p>“That rather depends on your opinion of the High Council.”</p><p>There’s a pause and another groan before Romana rolls closer, throwing an arm over Narvin’s stomach. “Livia needs to start scheduling High Council meetings in the afternoon.”</p><p>“I distinctly remember attending morning meetings under the last presidential administration, too.”</p><p>“Whose side are you on?” she mutters, but her grumpiness is rather ruined by resting her head on his shoulder. This particular position isn’t helping motivate either of them to get out of bed, but Narvin has barely seen Romana outside the CIA offices in weeks and can’t bring himself to care. </p><p>Her hair is a hopelessly tangled mess. She’s rubbing at the shadows that have been visible under her eyes for weeks and they’re both still too exhausted for it to be morning again, but despite everything, these moments at the beginning of the day, before they have to step into their roles as the senior leadership of the CIA, are some of his favorites with her. </p><p>He presses a kiss to her forehead, and she nestles closer. Narvin would never give up the work they do together, but it is nice to temporarily ignore that the Time Lord sharing his bed is also his immediate work superior — the head of his agency and a former president to boot.</p><p>Romana’s a lot less intimidating before her first cup of tea, somehow. </p><p>He squeezes her shoulder. “The High Council meeting.”</p><p>She sighs. “The High Council meeting.” </p><p>They’re dressed and mostly through a hasty breakfast when Leela steps out of the bedroom, wrapped in a thick robe. She leans against the doorway, squinting out at the pair of them in Romana’s kitchen.</p><p>“Did either of you get any sleep last night?”</p><p>“We did.” Romana takes another sip of her tea, and Narvin raises his eyebrows in question at Leela. At her nod, he pours another hot mug and drops in a teabag. </p><p>“You look alert.” Leela smiles wryly at him.</p><p>“I wasn’t the one who had to leave my own rooms right before I was supposed to go to sleep.” Narvin crosses the room to deposit the mug in her hands. Leela slides her fingers behind his ear and kisses him, quick. </p><p>“Anything serious?” she calls to Romana.</p><p>“Not yet.” Romana swirls her mug. “Hopefully not ever. An unexpected debrief, that’s all.”</p><p>Leela closes her eyes. “There have been too many of those lately.” </p><p>“Agreed.” Narvin steps back to straighten the clasp on his robe and scoop up his datapad from the table. “But we manage.”</p><p>Romana glances at him. “No chance you could manage this High Council meeting, could you?”</p><p>“Deputy Coordinator doesn’t have a vote, I’m afraid,” Narvin says dryly. </p><p>“Ah, well, there is that.”</p><p>“I will remind you that you <em>did</em> choose to take this job. Of your own free will. And definitely no one else’s.”</p><p>“And one day you will remind me less than three times a day, but I take it we’re not there yet.” Her eyes flash, but they both know they’re teasing. Romana’s abrupt seizure of the CIA does still rankle sometimes, but Narvin hasn’t been able to help the warmth he’s felt these past many years, watching her grow to respect and understand his world after he spent so long carefully navigating hers. </p><p>Narvin moves towards the entryway, tracking down his least scuffed pair of shoes. “Besides, Livia listens to what you say at least — oh, a third of the time.”</p><p>“She does more than listen sometimes.” Leela winks at Narvin. </p><p>“More than listen?”</p><p>“She <em>likes</em> you,” Leela hides a smirk behind her mug.</p><p>Romana arches an eyebrow. “And what <em>exactly</em> are you implying?”</p><p>“<em>Exactly</em> what you think I am.” </p><p>Romana makes a scoffing sound, and Leela’s eyes only sparkle more, her grin widening. Taking a sip from her cup, Romana swivels to face Narvin.</p><p>“Tell Leela she’s being ridiculous.”</p><p>Narvin tugs on a shoe. “She’s probably right.”</p><p>“I’m <em>sorry</em>. You think Livia — ”</p><p>“ — was trying to flirt with you during the close quarters meetings at the last summit? Almost certainly.”</p><p>Leela sets down her cup, leaning back to stretch her arms over her head. “See? And Narvin knows all about Presidents and CIA Coordinators — ”</p><p>“Alright, that’s enough,” Narvin says, although not before he turns an embarrassing shade of red. He’s not sure it’s any solace that Romana is blushing too. </p><p>It’s a delicate balancing act, one that they’re still trying to recalibrate each day, even after all these years. They are colleagues first and foremost, they have to be. Protecting Gallifrey is too important to let the depth of their personal relationship interfere. (<em>Again</em>. A voice inside him whispers. <em>Interfere again</em>.) </p><p>But they are too important to each other to ignore their personal feelings, either. And so, their relationship works during these quieter moments outside of the office, moments that have become less and less frequent now that the Daleks —</p><p>Well. He tries not to think about the escalating attacks, the warnings from the Matrix, any more than he has to. </p><p>“And moving on from <em>that</em> — ” Romana takes a gulp of her tea, wriggling her toes into her own boot at the same time. “Narvin, last chance to sit in on the meeting.” </p><p>He shakes his head. “Not a chance. There are a dozen active missions I’m partially overseeing right now.” As well as a couple of personal investigations that Romana doesn’t know about. “Summarize it for me later.” </p><p>“Very well.” </p><p>They part ways quickly after leaving Leela’s quarters. The CIA Tower is busy when he arrives — they’ve long since formed a rotating schedule that keeps the Agency equally as staffed during the night as the day. It didn't matter so much when they had only ordinary temporal crises to deal with, but the number of timelines that are attacked and broken each day is growing exponentially. Narvin’s starting to fear that within the year, they won’t have the personnel to deal with the Dalek expansion.</p><p>He disappears immediately into his office and calls up the secret projects. He has a couple agents he’s worked with for years compiling data about the origins of the attacks. Other agents are already analyzing the attacks themselves, the patterns of time distortions, looking for what the strategy is. But Narvin has been searching for information on what concrete relative time the escalation began.</p><p>He has to know. He has to be sure about what sparked the Dalek’s aggression.</p><p>The other projects are preventative. Romana is supervising a few similar projects that are formally part of the CIA’s work, but Narvin isn’t certain that their usual protocols for isolating distortions or quelling invasions are enough. And he wrote many of those usual protocols himself. </p><p>He’ll present his data to Romana when it’s ready. If it’s useful. No need to raise the prospect of bending the Laws of Time if they can stop the Daleks some other way.    </p><p>The readouts flash on his screen, and Narvin tries not to let them blur into incoherence the longer he stares at them. His fingers clench and unclench the seam of his robe. The Time Lords are the most powerful time-faring civilization. That is what he has always insisted, believed in, even having watched the Citadel almost fall apart more than once. Gallifrey has been caught off guard before, but whatever the Daleks are doing now, it isn’t subtle. Surely, it shouldn’t have a chance of succeeding. </p><p>And yet, there’s a relentlessness to their attacks that terrifies him. A disregard for the Web of Time — there are already planets where their invasion was repelled and they went back, again and again, not until they won, but until the planet’s timelines were so mangled it hardly mattered. If they keep at it throughout the universe, they won’t just be trying to exterminate all life. They’ll be trying to exterminate all potential of life, snapping time and space clean apart until nothing remains of the universe. </p><p>He clears his throat and reminds himself to at least <em>try</em> not to be horrifically pessimistic at the start of the day. </p><p>Two spans later, Romana steps into his office without knocking. Fortunately, he’s moved on to the projects she’s aware of, the more obvious kind of nudging they're doing to stop the Daleks from growing too powerful. Not to mention a couple of missions that are unrelated to the Daleks at all — there are plenty of irresponsible entrepreneurs more than happy to try to profit off increased time distortions, even if it means further destabilizing the Web of Time. </p><p>She shuts the door. “We need to talk.”</p><p>“It’s always so reassuring when you start a conversation like that.” Narvin swivels to face her. “About the High Council meeting, I take it?”</p><p>“Yes.” She looks tired, but there’s a flash of something in her eyes. Anger or fear, he can’t quite tell. “Livia’s making plans, and I don’t think I like where this is headed.”</p><p>“What’s she doing now?”</p><p>She takes a deep breath and sits in the wide chair opposite his desk. “Given the escalation of Dalek attacks in this sector of space-time, she wants to re-allocate resources. Specifically, to begin preparing Gallifrey for the possibility of…” Romana hesitates. “...a broader conflict.”</p><p>Narvin’s stomach drops. There’s an implication to what she’s saying, an implication that any Time Lord has been hesitant to voice out loud. But Romana has Matrix access. <em>He</em> has Matrix access, because he wasn’t giving that up with his demotion. They’ve both seen the terrifying projections of Gallifrey’s future, the wide-scale carnage that will occur if they don’t find some way to stop it. But he’d hoped they had more time before that future started tipping from possibility to reality. They both had hoped.</p><p>“What exactly is Livia proposing?” Narvin manages to keep his voice relatively steady, under the circumstances.</p><p>“A subset of the High Council specifically devoted to coordinating our efforts to disrupt the Dalek attacks.” Romana purses her lips. “Or some such nonsense like that was how she phrased it. She wants a military committee with legislative powers.”</p><p><em>Military.</em> </p><p>So far they’ve managed to avoid using that word, with the CIA deployed as the primary agency for controlling the Dalek incursions. If the President of the High Council is looking for authorized forces to send into these temporal contamination zones, forces that aren’t specifically trained in temporal intervention, well. The CIA may be hardly known for its subtlety, but it’s infinitely more subtle that whatever blunt military strike the High Council could cook up.</p><p>“Is she going to get it?”</p><p>“There will be a vote in a couple days, once the plan is finalized. A couple more days if I can talk a few of the Cardinals down. If we escalate this — ” For a moment, Romana lets the steely confidence in her eyes flicker, and he sees her as he only ever does outside of this office. Uncertain. Vulnerable. “If we escalate this, it will only spiral out of our control.”</p><p>“I know,” Narvin says and doesn’t glance over to his screens. </p><p>There’s a short buzz and a message from his secretary alerting him that Leela’s waiting outside his door. He raises his eyebrows at Romana, and she nods briefly.</p><p>“I asked her to stop by as soon as she could. There’s something else we need to discuss.”</p><p>“Ah. Livia finally did it, then?”</p><p>Romana’s expression is a mixture of displeased and resigned, and that’s close enough to agreement. He tells his secretary to let Leela know he’s ready. When she enters, she doesn’t sit down in the empty chair but continues to stand, arms crossed, by the door.</p><p>“The High Council just met about budget expenses,” Leela begins without preamble.</p><p>“So you can see where this is going,” Romana sighs. “While technically it’s up to Livia’s office to let you know, I hoped I’d get ahead of the message.”</p><p>“My position on her staff has been cut.” Leela doesn’t sound angry or surprised — they’ve all been expecting it for a while now. The presidential office has been hiring additional consultants and advisors specializing in temporal warfare and Dalek encounters — occasionally poaching from the CIA, which is a constant subject of debate — and if the High Council is looking to craft a formal body to oversee this conflict, they’re going to need the funds from somewhere. It’s surprising a junior level liaison position lasted this long, although Narvin suspects that Livia’s office has made some effort not to fire Leela before now in order to avoid angering the CIA Coordinator. </p><p>“Yes. I’m sorry.” Romana offers her hand, and Leela takes it, letting Romana guide her into the second chair beside her. </p><p>“We have a few options for you,” Romana continues. “Extensions of your previous contract work. A fair amount of autonomy, but — ”</p><p>“But I would still be a CIA agent.”</p><p>“Yes,” Narvin says.</p><p>Leela nods. “It is a difficult time and I will gladly help with whatever you need right now. But I do not wish to be — ordered around.” </p><p>“Of course.” Narvin curls and uncurls his fingers on his desk, his voice quiet. “We understand that this isn’t your first choice.”</p><p>Leela gives him a look, quick and full of knowing sympathy. Enough to reassure him that it isn’t him that she wants to avoid — because the CIA has always been his, even though Romana sits in the Coordinator’s chair. It’s the tight chain of command, the restrictive bureaucracy. Leela has always fought for what scraps of freedom she can find on Gallifrey, what spaces she has to stretch her wings. They’ve spoken about this many times, but it’s nice to have that extra reassurance.</p><p>“One day we’ll move beyond this conflict, and you may be able to return to your previous position, or find another one that better suits your interests.” Romana’s voice is brimming with all the confidence Narvin’s learned to be suspicious of. From Leela’s sideways look, she doesn’t buy it either. </p><p>They spend another several microspans reviewing the specifics of Leela’s transfer to the agency — her contract work in the training program and as a mission consultant means that she can be fast-tracked through basic training. They also briefly entertain some options of missions she might like to join, but Romana wraps up the conversation before any final decisions are made, pointing apologetically to other business on her schedule. </p><p>Once Leela leaves, Romana turns in the doorway.</p><p>“One more thing,” she sighs. “Livia wants to meet with us. And of course, when it’s the President it’s not so much a <em>want</em> as a — ”</p><p>“When are we meeting with the President?”</p><p>Romana bites her lip. “Ten microspans.”</p><p>“You couldn’t have led with that?”</p><p>“It shouldn’t take too long. Hopefully.”</p><p>Narvin eyes his screens, rotating between a series of updates and messages. “What’s it about?”</p><p>“She didn’t say.”</p><p>“So when you say <em>hopefully</em> — ”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, Narvin, I am just hoping.” She crosses her arms. “But Livia has more than enough on her plate, I can’t imagine she wants to meet with the CIA for too long, given I already debriefed her and the other High Council members this morning. Meet me outside my office?”</p><p>“Of course,” Narvin says, without enthusiasm. </p><p>He doesn’t get too much done before the meeting, but he does start pulling together the list of possible temporal inflection points. He had hoped he wouldn’t need them for a long time, but if the president is looking to escalate hostilities, then they don’t have much time after all. Narvin saves and re-encrypts the file and is exactly on time meeting Romana. </p><p>Visiting the presidential office with Romana is always a bit strange. Even after all these years, even though Narvin has become comfortable with how the pair of them work alongside each other, there’s always a part of him that quietly insists that Romana is the one who belongs behind that desk. </p><p>Livia’s expression is solemn when they walk in, her eyes nervous. </p><p>“Romana. Narvin. Thank you for meeting with me.”</p><p>“Of course.” Romana tips her head. “Madam President.”</p><p>Livia gestures to the pair of chairs in front of her desk, and they take their seats. </p><p>“I know you’ve seen the reports of the latest Dalek attacks just outside the Monan Host system,” Livia says, sharp.</p><p>Narvin nods. “The CIA wrote many of those reports, Madam President.”</p><p>“Yes. Well. Casualties are increasing everyday, and the Monans are growing more concerned.” Livia purses her lips. “<em>I</em> am growing more concerned. The Daleks have always been a threat, but the combined might of the Temporal Powers has always been more than enough to contain them. This type of aggression — ”</p><p>“The Daleks have always been aggressive,” Romana cuts in. “This time is no different than any other campaign to expand their empire, exterminate as much life as they can. We’ve stopped them before, and we’ll stop them again.”</p><p>Livia raises her eyebrows. “The reason I called you both here is that I have received indication that this time is, in fact, <em>different</em>. And not just the warnings in the Matrix.” Her eyes dart from one to the next, and a chill rushes through Narvin, head to toe. </p><p>“Earlier this morning I was on a call with the High Monan, who claimed to have intelligence suggesting that the Dalek attacks were a response to Gallifreyan hostility,” Livia says. </p><p>Narvin’s grip on the arms of his chair tightens.</p><p>“<em>Gallifreyan</em> hostility?” Romana makes a noise between a snort and a scoff. “Madam President, that’s absurd. Why would the Daleks be concentrating their attacks on the Monans if — ”</p><p>“You know as well as I do it’s not just the Monans. The Unvoss have lost several asteroid outposts and their satellite defenses have been damaged. The Sunari can scarcely leave their own system for fear of the Daleks swallowing their ships.” Livia leans forward, fingers laced. “They are circling our allies, attacking them and closing them off. Shouldn’t we be asking ourselves <em>why</em> Gallifrey has been least affected so far?”</p><p>“They’ve tried to invade before,” Romana says, cool. “It didn’t work.”</p><p>“They’ve come a lot farther, technologically, since that time.”</p><p>“So have we.”</p><p>“Romana.” Livia sighs. “The Daleks aren’t just attacking. They are launching temporal disturbances on a scale we haven’t seen before. If they keep this up, they could — well. No one <em>wants</em> to think that far ahead, but — ”</p><p>“But we have to,” Narvin says, surprised that he’s managed to find his voice.</p><p>“Yes.” Livia inclines her head. “We do. We have to manage this threat while also protecting the stability of the Web of Time. <em>You</em> have to. Which is why I am more than a little concerned about these reports from Monan Intelligence that suggest you have done the exact opposite.”</p><p>“I’m <em>sorry</em>?” Romana doesn’t leap up from her chair, but from the way she’s clenching the arms, it’s a struggle not to. </p><p>“The High Monan is insisting that Monan intelligence forces have discovered evidence of Gallifreyan interference in the Dalek timeline. They don’t know specifics, not yet, but there is activity around the earliest days of the Daleks. Days even before their creation.”</p><p>The silence is sudden, striking. Narvin can hear the beat of his own hearts, too loud in his chest.</p><p>Monan Intelligence must have been collecting some of the same data that he has, although with more agents working on the project, they’ve reached a conclusion much faster. </p><p>When the first reports came through, Narvin tried to dismiss them. Many years have passed since that hasty side mission, enough to hope that nothing happening now could be connected. (Unless the Daleks were biding their time. Unless the weapons they’ve seen deployed lately, weapons they’ve hid well from the CIA’s eyes, were the product of those years of careful preparation.)</p><p>Romana speaks first, her voice steel. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Livia, but the CIA would never resort to meddling in the creation of the Daleks. It has been long-standing temporal policy that the Daleks' existence is necessary to the stability of the Web of Time. I have <em>always</em> protected the timelines, and I will continue to do so.”</p><p>Livia stares at Romana for a long moment. “You do have a clear record on this particular issue, Coordinator. And I am not inclined to trust the Monans over my own intelligence agency, but I needed to be sure. If there’s anything about the CIA’s activity regarding the Daleks that I don’t know about, anything that could influence my decisions, I need to know. Are we clear?”</p><p>“Of course, Madam President.” Romana’s grip on the chair loosens slightly. “We have always communicated what information we have, and that will not change.”</p><p>Livia nearly smiles before turning to lock eyes with Narvin. He tries not to flinch.</p><p>“Narvin? As the previous Coordinator, I’d like your assurances that the Monans are simply stirring up trouble.”</p><p>The pause is too long. He’s too aware of Romana’s eyes on him.</p><p>He can’t contradict Romana. He can’t lie to the President. He can’t tell Romana the truth. </p><p>Narvin swallows. “If you would like, I can review any records of previous CIA missions in the sector of space that holds Skaro, determine if there is anything of relevance.”</p><p>Romana’s sharp inhale is too quiet for anyone to hear but Narvin. He knows what his line was supposed to be, knows that he was supposed to present a united front, push back against the President’s suspicion of and interference in CIA operations. Exactly what he’s been good at all his life. Offering to review the material is enough of a contradiction, enough of an admission that there <em>could</em> be something that the CIA had forgotten to mention, for Romana to notice.</p><p>Livia’s eyebrows furrow slightly — a mixture of confusion and concern flicker in her eyes, but only briefly. She doesn’t know him well enough to consider the gesture anything but polite. </p><p>She is also intelligent enough to realize he never directly answered her question.</p><p>“If there is anything of relevance.” Livia leans back in her chair, chin lifted. “I expect you to inform me right away. Deputy Coordinator. Coordinator.”</p><p>She stands, gestures to the door. The meeting is concluded, but it feels as if a gaping chasm has opened beneath Narvin’s feet. Suddenly, he’s on the verge of falling in.</p>
<hr/><p>Romana doesn’t say a word all the way back to the CIA Tower. But from a quick flick of her fingers and her thunderous stride, Narvin gets the message to follow her into her office loud and clear.</p><p>As soon as the door is shut, she whirls to face him.</p><p>“What was <em>that</em>, Narvin?”</p><p>“What was what?”</p><p>“Oh, don’t play the idiot. It doesn’t suit you.” Romana stands in front of her desk, hands idly drumming against the surface. Her glare is pinning him in place, and the part of him stuck in old habits wants to argue, get angry, push back. Tell her there’s nothing wrong. Tell her she’s being paranoid. </p><p>But she isn’t. She isn’t.</p><p>“<em>Review any records of previous CIA missions?</em> What exactly was that about? Do you want Livia to think we’re hiding something? Or are we <em>actually</em> hiding something?” </p><p>He can see the question in her eyes before she asks it. He can see how much she doesn’t want to ask.</p><p>“Is there something you haven’t told me?” </p><p>For a moment, the timelines, those shifting, fracturing tangles of possible futures that hover at the edge of every Time Lord’s awareness, threaten to overtake him. Narvin doesn’t want to look too closely, but he catches glimpses anyways — what breaks if he lies to her. What breaks if he tells the truth.</p><p>If he was braver, he would have told her sooner. Told her as soon as he realized the mission he’d authorized to Skaro was unsuccessful. Told her as soon as she took over the CIA and gained legal access to every one of their mission records. Told her as soon as the Daleks movements escalated beyond their general threat level. </p><p>Narvin still remembers too vividly how it felt, those moments when he thought he’d lost her. The numb, awful realization that he’s let himself care about another person that much, that he’d bound his professional and personal future to her so much that he was untethered, free falling. It’s lingered, that feeling, every time she laughs at an old story of his as they share dinner, every time she persuades him to take a few spans off world, every time he falls asleep with an arm wrapped around her waist. </p><p>Look how far he was willing to go to save her, and he didn’t have nearly so much to lose back then.</p><p>“There was a CIA mission to Skaro.” The words are outside of him, like hearing someone else speak. “Livia’s right.”</p><p>Romana stares. “I have access to every mission record in known history. I should know about this.”</p><p>“It’s buried deep in the records. You wouldn’t know where to look. I didn’t want to bring it up unless — ” Narvin takes an unsteady breath. “Unless it was relevant.”</p><p>“How could a mission to Skaro possibly not be <em>relevant</em>?” </p><p>“It might have had nothing to do with this.” Narvin doesn’t sound convincing even to himself. “And if the president asked, you wouldn’t need to disclose the information because you didn’t know. We need her to trust us to do our job — “</p><p>“If we’re running side missions to Skaro, I’m not certain that <em>I</em> trust us to do our job!” Romana narrows her eyes. “What <em>happened</em>? How did this happen?”</p><p>Narvin hesitates.</p><p>Romana crosses the room. She’s too close, her eyes flashing. “So help me, Narvin, if you don’t explain right now —“</p><p>“I authorized it,” he says, and something rushes out of him, leaving him empty. “When I was Coordinator, I authorized a mission to Skaro to try to — alter the Daleks creation.”</p><p>She’s staring. Her face is white. “Alter.”</p><p>“Limit their technological capabilities. Or —“</p><p>“Or <em>eliminate</em> them?” she whispers.</p><p>Narvin doesn’t say anything. His silence is enough. </p><p>Romana’s silence is worse. She retreats back to lean against her desk, facing away from him. Narvin doesn’t want to dig himself a deeper hole by saying anything else, but the longer the silence creeps on, the more he’s itching to say something, <em>do</em> something, fix this. Fix the mistake he made all those years ago when he let his feelings for Romana compromise his judgment, his duty, everything he stood for. </p><p>“When?” Romana asks, a crack through the silence.</p><p>“Several years ago.”</p><p>“During my presidency?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He knows what her next question is going to be before she asks.</p><p>“<em>Why</em>?”</p><p>It’s easier to lie when she isn’t looking at him. “The Daleks have tried to invade Gallifrey twice in very recent history. They represent a clear threat — ”</p><p>Romana turns suddenly, and Narvin could count on one hand the number of times she’s pinned him with a glare that cold. </p><p>“<em>I know that</em>.” </p><p>The words drop, heavy, between them. </p><p>“I know <em>exactly</em> how much of a danger the Daleks are — to Gallifrey, to the universe,” Romana says, low and angry. “Don’t you <em>dare</em> presume to explain that to me. And don’t you <em>dare</em> ask me to believe that the threat level is in any way worth risking the Web of Time. That isn’t an explanation, that’s an excuse, and I’d like to think you know better than to give me <em>excuses</em>.”</p><p>“It was a mistake,” Narvin says quietly. “That’s not an excuse.”</p><p>“It’s not an explanation either. You know full well what the consequences of interfering in Skaro that early could be — I take it you didn’t <em>succeed</em>, but I’m not feeling pleased that we’re facing the better outcome right now. You’re intelligent and experienced, and there’s no reasonable explanation why you would do such a thing — so there must be something I’m missing, some important piece of the puzzle that explains it all. What is it?”</p><p>She’s angry. There’s no doubt that she’s angry, but she’s also desperate. Desperate for an understanding that he can’t give her, because Romana has never prioritized her own life above anything and won’t understand how anyone else could. </p><p>Narvin still doesn’t entirely understand how <em>he</em> could. But that is why he’s since made an effort to avoid making potentially catastrophic decisions based on impulsivity or emotion or anything else likely to backfire. </p><p>“There isn’t a missing piece of the puzzle.” Narvin makes a considerable effort not to stare at his feet. “I was concerned about the Daleks making inroads into Gallifrey yet again, I wanted a more permanent solution, and I made a mistake.”</p><p>“A more permanent solution.” She shakes her head. “You mean you didn’t trust me.”</p><p>“Of <em>course</em> I trust you.”</p><p>“But not to deal with the Daleks. Not to ensure that trapping them in the Matrix would hold, not to establish the necessary safeguards to make sure nothing like this would ever happen again — ”</p><p>“I wasn’t going against your efforts.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>weren’t</em> you? My CIA Coordinator, directly undermining the safety of my planet and the universe right under my nose, because you thought you had a better way? A more <em>permanent</em> solution?”</p><p>“How many times do I have to tell you that it was a mistake — ”</p><p>“I <em>trusted</em> you, Narvin.” Romana’s voice isn’t raised at all. It’s somehow worse that way. “I trusted that you’d never do something so <em>stupid</em>, that you’d never — ”</p><p>She looks away, falling silent again. </p><p>It’s sinking in, it must be. That the Time Lords tried to avert the creation of the Daleks. That the Time Lords were the one to escalate this, not the Daleks. That if they are hurtling towards a <em>broader conflict</em>, it’s because Narvin pulled the trigger without thinking enough about where he was firing. </p><p>“You’re dismissed.”</p><p>He freezes. “Romana — ”</p><p>“Not from your job, at least not — I don’t know.” She’s still not looking at him. “But get out of my office.”</p><p>For once, Narvin obeys without argument.</p>
<hr/><p>The rest of the day is normal. He oversees a field mission, meets with senior agents, reviews classified engineering data.</p><p>The rest of the day isn’t anything like normal. He delegates his upcoming meetings and mission supervisions to those same senior staff, stares at his own maps of the timelines until his heads spin, tries not to notice how Romana hasn’t messaged him at all since they last spoke. When he’s heard from the Coordinator’s office, it’s all been through Romana’s secretary.</p><p>He knows she can keep this up for a long time. Romana lets grudges linger, is slow to trust — it’s why he values her faith in his work and her care for him as a person. Neither of them are easy people to like, much less live with, and somehow they have managed to do both. </p><p>Had. They had managed to do both.</p><p>Narvin wants to convince himself that she can move past this, that the mission to Skaro was just a mistake. But <em>just a mistake</em> doesn't send the president of Gallifrey calling for a buildup of Gallifrey’s military force or full teams of CIA agents working around the clock. </p><p>He stares at the same printout, trying to blink away the blurriness in his vision. There were always going to be consequences for his actions. Romana will speak to him again, she has to, but there’s a very good chance she’ll never trust him again. There’s a very good chance she has every reason to. </p><p>And it clicks, what he has to do next.</p><p>Romana clearly doesn’t want to see him right now. And Narvin has the best understanding of any of the agents of the causal chain that’s led them to increased conflict with the Daleks. He’s studied these particular ripples for weeks, and his data may not be perfect, but it may never be perfect. Time is moving too fast now — if he has any chance of averting the future the Matrix is warning about, he has to leave now.</p><p>Usually Romana’s door is unlocked, the better for him to barge in unannounced, but today’s locked door is a message. </p><p>Romana’s secretary throws Narvin an apprehensive glance when he insists on seeing the Coordinator in spite of any orders to the contrary. But most of the agents here started during his tenure as Coordinator, and there’s still a streak of loyalty to a career CIA operative over an outsider, no matter their personal opinion of Romana. It takes only a few microspans of  argument before her secretary unlocks the door. Narvin slips inside before he can change his mind.</p><p>Romana doesn’t look up. “I thought I made it clear you weren’t welcome in my office today.”</p><p>Narvin drops the printouts of his temporal calculations on her desk. “You’ll want to see this.”</p><p>She hesitates for a long moment before glancing at the top of the pile. “What am I looking at?”</p><p>“Readouts of possible inflection points. Nothing significant, nothing that will affect the Web of Time. But — ”</p><p>“But I thought we were already doing this? Sending agents to nudge future events — ”</p><p>“This isn’t just about future events. Past, present, it’s all tangled up now. If we can untangle events, course correct — ”</p><p>“We risk causing a paradox,” Romana snaps.</p><p>“Not if we achieve our goal before this gets any worse. Then our interference becomes part of chronology. It always happened this way — ”</p><p>“ — it always will happen this way. <em>Yes</em>, I’m familiar with the concept.”</p><p>Narvin takes a breath. “I’ll go. It’s too complicated to brief the other agents, and now that I know for certain where this started, I know what to look for. I know you’re angry with me, but if our — ” He swallows. “If the years we’ve worked together still mean anything, then let me do this. I can avert the future we never want to see. I can — ”</p><p>“Stop a war before it starts?”</p><p><em>War</em>. The word they’ve been avoiding this whole time. Romana’s eyes meet his, and he can’t read her at all. </p><p>“This could be our darkest hour,” he says, hoarse. “But there’s still a chance it won’t be. This kind of interference goes above and beyond the CIA’s jurisdiction, but to stop a war, it’s worth it. I’ve already reassigned most of my workload. I can leave tomorrow. I can leave tonight.” </p><p>She purses her lips, squinting at the documents in front of her. There’s another long silence, broken only by the reshuffling of papers.</p><p>“Fine.” Romana shoves the papers back at him. “I want mission objectives before you leave and a full report within two spans of your return. Go.”</p><p>He nods and turns to leave.</p><p>“Narvin,” she calls after him. “I don’t want Leela involved in any of this, not yet. But — tell her you’re leaving. She’d want to know.”</p><p>There is no warmth in her eyes, but something squeezes tight in his chest anyways. Romana hasn’t forgiven him, but he understands the deal she’s offering — her anger is with him. They leave Leela out of this. </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>As Narvin leaves the Coordinator’s office, his mind already racing ahead to assembling supplies and selecting a first mission target, he tries not to think of waking curled against Romana this morning, of the last time he saw her smile, of years and years of quiet beginnings and ends of days with her by his side.</p><p>Those moments were always stolen. And time’s caught up to him at last.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: discussions of Dalek-related torture and death.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Working at the CIA isn’t as suffocating as Leela had feared. It isn’t much different from when she’d stepped in every now and then to do contract work — Romana’s fancy title for sending Leela on whatever mission she either couldn’t spare another agent for, or wanted someone who wasn’t a Time Lord on, when Ace was busy. An official position means an office, which she doesn’t use much anyways, and a higher security clearance, which should mean less awkward whispering between Romana and Narvin that Leela has to pretend not to overhear. </p><p>But Romana and Narvin haven’t been doing any whispering together for the past month.</p><p>They argue, those two — they’ve argued as long as they’ve known each other. But these past few weeks have felt different, chillier. Narvin is gone most of the time on missions off world he refuses to give her any details about. Romana stays hidden away in her office late into the evenings. The pair of them haven’t spoken to each other outside of work since the morning before Leela was fired from the presidential staff, and even when they’re both in the office, it’s like they’re trying not to cross paths.</p><p>Her relationships with both of them have always demanded patience — their duty to their work can drown out so much, including her. She has to try not to let it sting. She has to remind herself that it isn’t something terrible, to care about a whole world and a whole universe that much. But she has too many memories of being brushed off and dismissed by a long list of Time Lords, including both of them, and her patience is running thin. </p><p>When she wakes, Narvin is already gone. He climbed into her bed late last night — her new one, she’s now living in a flat in the CIA housing block that is as close as they could find to the Coordinator and Deputy Coordinator’s quarters. She’d stirred awake when he tugged the covers up to his chin and rolled over to drift back asleep with her arm thrown over his chest. She was barely awake enough to remember if they’d said anything to each other — if they had, it couldn’t have been more than a few mumbled words. </p><p>That’s all they seem to get these days — a few snatches of conversation here and there, the too brief warmth of drifting off to sleep together. She wants to demand that he tell her where he’s going, what he’s doing, but he manages to slip in and out just in time to avoid that kind of conversation. And whatever Narvin is doing, it’s taking a toll — the shadows under his eyes grow darker each time she sees him, his shoulders more tense, his sleep too restless. A week ago, she had pinned him against the sofa and told him he looked terrible, told him she was worried, but he kept insisting he was just busy, until she reluctantly gave in and let him curl up with his head on a pillow in her lap until he started snoring. </p><p>Romana is even more vague on the details, although as Narvin has grown wearier, she’s grown snappier, colder. She shrugs Leela off when Leela stops by her office for no other reason than wanting to see her. She insists on staying up late staring at her datapad, so the two of them get so little time to themselves. And neither she or Narvin will say a word about why they’re fighting.</p><p>Leela dresses and eats quickly. The CIA Tower is a quick walk away, and Romana is already in her office by the time Leela breezes past her secretary to slip inside. It’s hard to tell if Romana even went back to her rooms to rest last night.   </p><p>“Good morning.” Leela drops a nutrient bar on Romana’s desk.</p><p>“What’s this for?”</p><p>“Did you eat yet?”</p><p>Romana can do a very good job of not looking guilty, but she doesn’t quite manage it today. “I was going to grab something in a moment. I have to prepare for another meeting with Livia — General Trave and some of her other appointees who are pushing for a full on war effort spend too much time with her.”</p><p>Ever since the High Council voted for the military committee to oversee the Dalek conflict, Romana has had even more complaints than usual — complaints about the president, her advisors, the members of the committee, their supporters in the chapters — the list goes on and on. </p><p>Romana rubs her temples. “Agents Olkins and Castor have informed me that they’re resigning to take positions within the bureaucracy they’re constructing around Livia’s favorite new committee. That’s the third set of notices this week. I can’t have the president stealing all my agents if she wants the CIA to be effective. They were in the middle of — ” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, Leela. You don’t need to hear about my latest spat with the president over — jurisdiction over the Dalek campaign.”</p><p>Leela almost laughs. “That has never stopped you from talking about it before.”</p><p>“Yes, well. There’s a limited number of people in this government who I can complain <em>at</em>, not just <em>about</em>.”</p><p>“And speaking of that limited number, have you sent Narvin away from Gallifrey <em>again</em>?”</p><p>The tension in the air is sharp, sudden. Romana’s shoulders stiffen, and her fingers curl as she stares pointedly at one of the screens in front of her. </p><p>“Narvin is currently engaged in an important and highly classified mission. A mission that yes, does require him to be away from Gallifrey for extended periods of time. I thought he'd communicated that to you.”</p><p>Leela sits in the chair in front of Romana’s desk, legs crossed. “Neither of you communicate much of anything to me these days, unless it involves a mission briefing.”</p><p>The stiffness doesn’t leave Romana’s shoulders, but they do slump forward. The exhaustion is suddenly more visible than ever in her eyes. </p><p>“I appreciate the work you’re doing here, really.” She turns to face Leela properly. “I know I keep asking you to take extra shifts on training the agents or leave the planet with little notice, but when things are back to normal, I promise — ”</p><p>“Romana.” Leela shakes her head. “Do not make promises you cannot keep.”</p><p>Romana bites her lip. “Leela — ”</p><p>“I told you — I am happy to do what needs to be done. I do not need nice words to push me along. But I need you to <em>tell</em> me what is going on. Narvin is disappearing, you are hiding away in your office, neither of you are speaking to each other — ”</p><p>“We’re <em>speaking</em> to each other.”</p><p>“No. The Coordinator and Deputy Coordinator of the CIA might be speaking to each other, sometimes, but not you and Narvin. You really think I cannot tell the difference?”</p><p>“No, but Leela — ” Romana laces her fingers together. “There are always going to be things I can’t tell you, that Narvin can’t tell you.”</p><p>“That <em>might</em> have been true before, but you can declassify any information you wish to a CIA Agent without it being a security breach.”</p><p>Romana is quiet for a long time, her eyes adrift. Leela waits.</p><p>“Sometimes, it isn’t a matter of protocol. I’m dealing with a delicate situation right now, and the more people that know the details, the more delicate it becomes.” Her eyes soften, focus. “And if we’re — I don’t want you stepping in the middle of — ”</p><p>“Of your fight with Narvin? It wouldn’t be the first time.”</p><p>“This time is different.” Her voice is sharp. It demands no questions. It demands to be followed.</p><p>Leela doesn’t like things being demanded of her. “It should not <em>matter</em> how different it is. Whatever is going on between you, it is hurting both of you.”</p><p>Romana closes her eyes. “You don’t <em>understand</em>.”</p><p>“Because you refuse to <em>let</em> me. You cannot expect me to sit back and do nothing!”</p><p>“That’s exactly what I expect you to do,” Romana snaps.</p><p>Leela stiffens. The ice in Romana’s eyes is sudden, piercing, and it twists down into Leela’s stomach. It is not often that she feels unwelcome here in the Coordinator’s office.</p><p>But just as quickly, Romana looks stricken. She drops her face in her hands and inhales slowly. “I’m sorry, Leela. I didn’t mean to get angry.”</p><p>Leela is silent for a long while. Long enough that Romana lifts her head, staring with uncertainty. </p><p>“May I go?” Leela says.</p><p>“Of course. But — ”</p><p>“I am meeting with your newest recruit in fifteen microspans. I will speak to you later about how her training is going.”</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>As she leaves the room, it takes everything in her to ignore how lost Romana looks. But if Romana wants to talk, to <em>truly</em> talk, she knows where to find Leela.</p>
<hr/><p>Leela is stretched out on her sofa, thinking of heading to bed sooner rather than later, the dishes from dinner long cleaned, when there’s a knock on her door.</p><p>Romana doesn’t usually knock, but Romana also hasn’t visited these particular rooms of hers much. She’s used to slipping into the housing complex for presidential staff next door, darting in and out through quiet passages, so no one can stop and stare at the CIA Coordinator. Not that her relationships with Romana and Narvin really stayed secret. Almost no one is completely certain exactly which of the three of them are together, but there’s enough speculation to fuel the city gossip whenever there’s nothing more interesting going on. There was even a betting pool among the junior CIA agents that Narvin squashed ruthlessly when he discovered it.</p><p>But even if they did <em>need</em> to sneak around, sneaking is a lot easier in a building that’s designed for spies. They can easily cross from the office building to the housing one through tunnels and dimensionally transcendental architecture. They can dart between rooms without being seen, as long as they have the complicated series of access codes that secures each one. </p><p>When Leela opens the door, it’s with a small smile, enough for Romana to know that she isn’t looking for a fight. The relief in Romana’s eyes is clear, but when she steps inside, she hovers in front of the door, as if unsure where to go next. Leela takes Romana’s hand, guiding them both to stand on opposite sides of the kitchen counter. Romana looks surprised — Leela suspects she hoped this meeting would lead to the two of them snuggled quietly together on the sofa, but while Leela isn’t looking for an argument, she <em>is</em> looking for a conversation. And no matter how much she aches to hold Romana, to pull her close and watch the tension in her shoulders melt away, she can’t allow any distractions. </p><p>Leela leans her elbows against the counter. “Would you like something to eat?”</p><p>“I ate earlier.” Romana’s drumming her fingers, a nervous habit. “I meant to come by earlier, but the reports came in from the Sunari.”</p><p>“How bad is it?”</p><p>Romana holds her gaze, and there are more storm clouds in her eyes than Leela has seen in a long time. “A time slippage on their most populated moon that ripped open a continent. Twenty thousand dead in an instant.”</p><p>Leela swallows and gives in easily to the urge to reach across the counter. She takes one of Romana’s hands in both her own, tracing the shape of her fingernails, the curve of her palm. Romana takes a shuddering breath. </p><p>“I am sorry.”</p><p>“So am I.”</p><p>Leela hesitates. She doesn’t want to make Romana’s life more difficult, especially after this news, but she does want answers. And she suspects that talking about what’s going on — whatever it is — will be good for Romana, too. </p><p>The silence stretches out for a long time before Leela breaks it.</p><p>“Why are you sending Narvin away?” She tries to keep her voice gentle. Romana tenses anyways, her fingers curling tightly around Leela’s. </p><p>“I’m not sending him away. He was the one who asked to go.”</p><p>“Go where?”</p><p>Romana’s shoulders sag in resignation. “Inflection points. Moments when the future could be nudged more easily along a different path. He’s — scouting mostly. Stepping in if there’s a path worth taking.” </p><p>“Is that not what you are always doing?”</p><p>“Not quite. It’s dangerous, to meddle in the past on this large a scale. To try to prevent a conflict so potentially massive.”</p><p>“You sent Narvin to try to stop a war.”</p><p>“I told you, I didn’t send him. He asked.”</p><p>“If it is that dangerous, why would you let him go alone?”</p><p>Romana stares. “We are all doing what needs to be done. To fix this, before it gets out of our control.”</p><p>“Was this a punishment? You are angry at him for something, I know you are, but — ”</p><p>“This isn’t a punishment!” Romana yanks back her hand, pulling away from the counter. “Narvin chose his current mission schedule, and I don’t know if there’s any chance his missions will succeed, but I’m willing to give it a try because I’m willing to give <em>anything</em> a try. And of <em>course</em> it’s dangerous, but the <em>universe</em> is dangerous, and Narvin is perfectly capable of facing the consequences of his own actions — ”</p><p>There’s a sudden silence. </p><p>Leela stares. “The consequences of his <em>own</em> actions?”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“I think it matters very much, if it is the reason you have not been speaking to Narvin.”</p><p>Romana brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”</p><p>“Why does that matter?”</p><p>She sighs loudly. “It isn’t fair to ask you to get involved. This is between me and Narvin, and I don’t want to make things harder for you because he — ”</p><p>Another sudden, biting silence. Whatever frustration Romana is feeling, it’s seething just below the surface. If she tries to keep bottling this up, it won’t end well — Leela has known Romana long enough to be sure of that. </p><p>“Did you ever think that maybe I can <em>help</em>, if you do not know how to talk to each other about what is wrong?”</p><p>Romana shakes her head. “Talking isn’t the problem. This isn’t something you fix, Leela. This isn’t something any of us fix, as much as Narvin is trying to. And just because I don’t know if I — ” </p><p>“You do not know if you <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“I told you, we’re not talking about this.”</p><p>“You <em>want</em> to talk about this, whatever <em>this</em> is.”</p><p>“I don’t know if I can trust him anymore!” Romana clenches her fists. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” </p><p>Leela takes a step back from the counter. Her stomach is coiling itself into knots, because Romana was right, earlier. There is something about this tension that feels different. More devastating. Harder to repair. Romana is very good at getting angry with people, but there’s a striking hurt in her voice that is much more rare to hear. </p><p>She isn’t just angry, she’s <em>betrayed</em>. And that is enough to scare Leela, because if she’s certain of anything on this planet, it’s this: Narvin would rather die than betray Romana.</p><p>Leela takes a steadying breath. “You cannot mean that.”</p><p>“I do.” But her emphatic tone of voice is ruined by the rapid blinking, the fingernails dug into her skin.</p><p>“What could Narvin have possibly done, that you would say such a thing?” Leela whispers.</p><p>Romana turns away, quick, so Leela can’t see her face. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation.” </p><p>“How many times do I have to say it — you do not need to <em>protect</em> me from whatever is wrong!”</p><p>Romana’s head drops. “Is wanting to keep you out of this really so terrible?”</p><p>She looks so small, facing away and head bowed in Leela’s kitchen. She guards the universe, shapes it; she holds more power in a day than most people will in a lifetime. She easily forgets that she is a person, too, and it has always been Leela’s place to remind her.</p><p>Crossing from behind the counter, Leela rests a hand on Romana’s shoulder. A moment later, Romana places her own hand on top of Leela’s, squeezing briefly before stepping away. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Romana scrubs at her eyes. </p><p>“So am I.” Leela brushes their arms together. “But I do not <em>want</em> to be left out of this.”</p><p>Romana’s biting her lower lip enough that Leela’s surprised she hasn’t drawn blood. But Leela can see the moment she decides, the mixed resignation and relief in her eyes. </p><p>Romana crosses her arms, as if to shield herself. “Narvin broke the Laws of Time. And I know, on its own that doesn’t seem like a problem — the CIA’s entire existence is technically a violation of the law against interference. But there is always a limit. There is always a line that should never be crossed.” </p><p>Her shoulders straighten. She turns to face Leela, but her eyes are looking past — lost in something Leela can’t see. “The chronology of the universe is a delicate thing. Sometimes, events can be changed without casting many ripples. Sometimes, those ripples are tidal waves. And that’s what we do — try to stop the tidal waves, even if it means casting our own little ripples in the meantime.”</p><p>Romana’s pacing now, back and forth on the edge of Leela’s kitchen. “There are events that are so important to how time unfolds that removing them would leave a void so large that the Web of Time would unravel. Collapse into itself. All of time and space would be at risk of destruction.”</p><p>
  <em>Risk all of time and space —</em>
</p><p>Something cold drops into Leela’s stomach, and she knows, suddenly, what Romana is going to say.</p><p>“However despicable the Daleks are, their existence is one of those things that would leave a void. That’s why no matter how much they attack our allies, the one thing we can’t do is go back and prevent them from existing. The damage to the timelines would be incalculable. It could never be worth the risk.”</p><p>The coldness only spreads, a chill washing over Leela from head to toe. </p><p>Romana’s still pacing. “And <em>that</em> is what Narvin did. Sometime after we returned to this Gallifrey, he decided that trapping the Dalek invasion force in the Matrix wasn’t enough. We had to have a more <em>permanent</em> solution.” </p><p>She stops, burying her face in her hands. Leela is grateful — if Romana was looking at her, she doesn’t think she could hide the understanding in her eyes. The memory of standing beside Narvin after they’d both watched what they thought was Romana disappearing inside the Matrix forever, the words that had slipped so carelessly from her mouth (<em>If only the Daleks had never existed!</em>) and the way Narvin had frozen and then <em>moved</em> — chattering on and on and not making much sense.</p><p>Leela never knew what he actually did that day. She had tried asking, as they settled back into their old Gallifrey, but he dodged her questions. And then time passed, and those memories had slipped away — his frantic desperation to save Romana, no matter the cost, the shock and horror in his eyes when he realized it didn’t matter after all.</p><p>“It doesn’t make any sense.” Romana’s back to pacing, her hands twisting in front of her. “Narvin is perfectly intelligent, he is perfectly aware of the consequences. And his explanations are the most asinine things I’ve ever heard — ”</p><p><em>Romana doesn’t know</em>. The realization drops hard into Leela’s stomach because now she has two choices — let Romana continue to believe that Narvin had no reason for risking the universe, or tell her that <em>she</em> was the reason. Leela understands why Narvin wasn’t willing to take the second option.</p><p>“What did he tell you?” Leela manages.</p><p>“Some nonsense about the Daleks being <em>dangerous</em>, about more action needing to be taken.”</p><p>“That does not sound like nonsense.”</p><p>“<em>It doesn’t matter!</em>” Now Romana is looking at Leela, now her voice is raised, now anger is crackling out of every word. “The danger has <em>never</em> mattered. What the Daleks have done has <em>never</em> mattered. I never let it matter, because I knew, I <em>knew</em>, that protecting the Web of Time was more important than stamping out that kind of evil once and for all.”</p><p>“I <em>made the call</em>. The Daleks were trapped in a time loop, and I could have snuffed them out at will. I could have torn them apart. I could have made everything they’ve ever done go away, and I <em>didn’t</em> because I couldn’t take that risk. <em>I let the Daleks live</em>, and every time I get a new report of how many worlds they’re breaking, how many people are dying, I have to live with that. <em>Every time</em> I can’t <em>sleep</em> because I know <em>exactly</em> what it looks like when they kill, <em>all</em> the ways they kill, I have to live with that.”</p><p>“I’ve seen them dissolve people atom by atom, suck the flesh from their bones. And even the ones who survive them — their brain analysis device splits your thoughts in two, unravels them until you can’t remember what was you, what was <em>you</em> anymore. And a Time Lord can resist it but it <em>hurts</em>, and you can still never be sure if your resistance was good enough, if the <em>you</em> that came out is the same you that went in. And they’re out there right now, murdering whole worlds like it’s nothing, tearing people apart from the inside out like it’s <em>nothing</em>, and of course I want to <em>destroy them</em>, every last one of them. So how <em>dare</em> Narvin give some excuse about them being <em>dangerous</em>, I lived for <em>decades</em> knowing that they would kill me the moment I was no longer <em>useful</em>, of course I know that they’re <em>dang</em> — ”</p><p>Romana freezes as Leela’s arms wrap around her waist, and for a heartbeat, Leela expects to be pushed away. But then Romana crumples, her words dissolving into gasps, clutching at Leela’s shirt. </p><p>She’s sobbing into Leela’s shoulder, her whole body trembling, and nothing else matters in that moment other than pulling her close. Leela doesn’t bother with words — there is nothing she can say right now that would help. </p><p>Leela always knew about Etra Prime. During those twenty years, Gallifrey’s missing president was a popular news topic whenever recent politics and gossip became too dull. And she saw Romana’s face when the Daleks swarmed through the Axis portal on the other Gallifrey, she’s held her after dozens of nightmares she won’t talk about — Leela knows that the pain, the fear, has never fully gone away, no matter how long she has been free. But Romana wants to pretend it has, and Leela has let her. She understands not being ready to talk. She understands the way pain burrows deep, leaving the belief that you have to pretend it doesn’t exist because that is the only way anyone will respect you. </p><p>Grief and misery tell lies, but Leela needed time to find the truth for herself. She always hoped Romana would, too.</p><p>She didn’t want the first time she ever heard Romana truly speak about her imprisonment to be like this — full of rage and heartbreak, the world pressing down on her shoulders again and again until something shattered.</p><p>Romana’s sobs fade to sniffles. Her hands are still fisted in the back of Leela’s shirt, clinging tight. </p><p>They stay like that for a long time, holding each other. Long enough for Romana’s tears to slow, for her to echo Leela’s deep breath. Eventually, Romana wriggles away, ducking her head and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve. </p><p>“You didn’t need to hear this,” she whispers.</p><p>“That may be true,” Leela says. “It did not have to be me. But you have needed to say that for a very long time. You have been carrying this pain inside of you for so long.” She reaches out a hand to cup Romana’s chin, and Romana shudders. “If it was not me, it should have been someone else.” </p><p>“There isn’t anyone else I could — ” Romana swallows, hard, and doesn’t finish the sentence. </p><p>Leela waits, while she steadies herself.</p><p>“I am <em>angry</em> with him, Leela. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more angry with him.”</p><p>She rests her hands on Romana’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. “If you were truly that angry, you would have made sure I knew what exactly he did. You would not have tried so hard to keep me out of this.”</p><p>Romana stares. </p><p>Leela sighs. “You are hurting. The Daleks are becoming more powerful every day, and it hurts you. Every time you get a new report of how many are dead, it hurts you. And now Narvin has hurt you, by appearing to ignore the pain you have gone through.”</p><p>“He didn’t just <em>appear</em> to,” she snaps. “He <em>did</em>. He put his own selfish desire to — I don’t know, be the one to eliminate a threat, over the long-term safety of the universe. If he didn’t trust me to deal with the Daleks on my own, how can I possibly trust him?”</p><p>Leela touches her cheek. It’s still wet. </p><p>Romana deserves the truth. She deserves understanding, no matter how much it hurts. Because sometimes hurt needs to be voiced, named, seen clearly, or none of them will ever find a way to heal it. But she is unsteady and only moments away from the most Leela has ever seen her cry, and telling her about why Narvin launched the mission can wait until morning. </p><p>Romana squeezes her eyes shut. “But I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position. You can make your own decisions about trusting Narvin. You can decide not to listen to a word I’m saying — ”</p><p>“I am listening,” Leela says, certain, her fingers still brushing Romana’s cheek. </p><p>Her eyes open, and Leela has never seen such vulnerability in them. There’s a fragility to her gaze, like it could break at any moment. </p><p>“Thank you,” she whispers.</p><p>Leela leans forward to press their foreheads together. “I am here. Do not forget that, no matter how terrible this conflict is. I am here, and the Daleks will have to match a warrior of the Sevateem if they <em>ever</em> think of touching you again.”</p><p>“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Romana’s mouth twists, a bitter smile. </p><p>Leela nudges their noses together. “I do not plan to.”</p><p>Romana hesitates only a heartbeat before kissing her. It’s clumsy and anxious, but Leela’s heart still leaps in her chest the instant their lips press together. </p><p>“Stay tonight,” Leela whispers, when they part. </p><p>Romana nods, and it’s only a short while later that she’s in Leela’s bed, burrowed under the covers as Leela stretches out on the mattress. Leela rolls to her side, lifting an arm, and Romana immediately snuggles close, her hand resting on Leela’s back, their legs tangled together. </p><p>Romana’s sleep is restless — her nightmares stir Leela awake, and more than once Leela isn’t sure nightmares are the reason Romana is burying her face in the pillow to hide her tears. Speaking the hurt is nowhere near enough to heal it, and as Leela drifts in and out of her own dreams, her stomach clenches. </p><p>She hates being so helpless. She hates seeing Romana hurting, Narvin hurting, the <em>universe</em> hurting, and being able to do so little to fix any of it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: aftermath of psychic trauma.</p><p>This chapter references Big Finish's Dark Eyes 3.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been weeks since Romana woke somewhere besides her own bed, and Leela’s new rooms are unfamiliar enough that it takes her a moment to orient herself. The lights are still on, dimmed down. Leela left them like that — she knows that on particularly bad nights, Romana hates sleeping in the dark.</p><p>She’s never told Leela why. She’s never explained how it was always dark in her cell on Etra Prime, a thick, suffocating blackness without a sunrise. Anything could appear out of that blackness — a screeching Dalek overseer, one of the slave elite sent to order them back into the mines or snatch her away for another private interrogation.</p><p>(Time Lords can resist the Dalek’s brain analysis device, but it hurts. It hurts.)</p><p>She’s curled towards the door, Leela’s arm around her waist, the warmth of her body pressed tight against Romana’s back. Her breath is a steadying rhythm. Rise and fall. </p><p>Romana’s wrung out from last night’s tears, sudden and overwhelming after being held back for so long. She has long followed a routine: Ignore the memories. Move forward. If you forget what they did to you, maybe everyone else will, too. </p><p>Her breath quickens. She clenches the sheets in her hand, her legs shifting in a nervous dance under the covers. She shouldn’t have let herself slip, not again. She’s supposed to be better than that.</p><p>Behind her, Leela stirs, murmuring indecipherably. Romana tries to freeze, to not disturb her, but it isn’t long before Leela is awake enough to nuzzle against Romana’s neck, kiss her shoulder.</p><p>“Is it morning for you?” she whispers.</p><p>Romana closes her eyes. “Almost. I have a briefing in less than two spans.”</p><p>Leela tucks her leg over Romana’s, tugging her close with a yawn. “You have time to keep resting.”</p><p>“I don’t think I can fall asleep again,” she admits and tries to sit up, to slip out of the bed and leave Leela to several spans of more peaceful rest.</p><p>Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done, given that Leela is lying half on top of her.</p><p>“If you wouldn’t mind.” Romana tries nudging her leg.</p><p>“I do mind.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>“I mind you getting up now very much.” Leela’s voice is a breath against her ear, raising goose bumps on her skin.</p><p>“Leela.”</p><p>“I am perfectly comfortable like this. And surely, you are much more comfortable like this than sitting on some hard chair in your office — ”</p><p>“That <em>is</em> my job.”</p><p>“And you are not at your job right now.” In a flash, Leela’s leaning over her, one hand pressed against each side of Romana’s head, her smile a breath away. “You said you would stay.”</p><p>“I <em>did</em> stay — ” Romana starts, but then it’s hard to think of any retorts, much less try to speak, when Leela’s kissing her. </p><p>It’s been so long since they’ve had a kiss like this, gentle and slow, luxuriating in the time they have. Romana wraps her arms around Leela’s waist, not minding in the slightest when Leela falls on top of her, their lips still pressed together. </p><p>“You are <em>extremely</em> manipulative,” Romana manages between kisses. </p><p>“Yes, it is <em>so</em> terrible to stay in bed a while longer.” Leela rolls her eyes and suddenly Romana is smiling in spite of herself. Leela grins back, and the next kiss is clumsy with her laughter.</p><p>This should be impossible — Leela in her arms as the universe is teetering on the verge of war around them. She cannot possibly deserve this moment, any of it.</p><p>“What is wrong?” Leela pulls back, studying her.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“<em>Romana</em>.”</p><p>She exhales. “Twenty thousand people died yesterday before they even knew anything was wrong. And here we are. Here I am.”</p><p>“Yes.” Leela traces the line of her jaw. “We are still alive. You are still alive. That is something to be <em>grateful</em> for.” </p><p>“Apparently, the Time Lords were the ones who started this conflict. How is it fair that so many people are dying elsewhere, and we’re safe here?” </p><p><em>For now. Safe for now.</em> </p><p>Leela tucks her head against Romana’s shoulder. “You know that the universe has never been fair. If it was, you would have faced the Daleks enough for one lifetime. For twelve lifetimes.”</p><p>“You don’t survive for twenty years by <em>facing the Daleks</em>. You survive by hiding, by doing what you’re told. By all rights, I should never have made it out. It was only luck that I survived, luck and — cowardice. Not anything to be proud of.”</p><p>Her eyes are blurring again, and she hates it. She has shed enough tears for one night.</p><p>Leela’s arms tighten around her, squeezing the breath from her body. “You are <em>here</em>. You are alive when they wanted you dead, you are free when they wanted you trapped. That is always something to be proud of.” Her whisper is fierce, insistent. </p><p>“Advocating survival over courage? That doesn’t sound like you.”</p><p>“One does not have to exist without the other. Some people need reminding that there are more important things than protecting their own life, yes. But others — ” She touches her nose to Romana’s. “ — need reminding that their life is worth a great deal. There are no easy answers in the universe, no absolutes. Surely with all your years of learning and experience, you must know <em>that</em>.” Leela’s teasing, but her eyes are sad. “It matters that you are here after the Daleks tried to get rid of you. It matters to me. It matters to Narvin. It matters to every person you have helped since you returned, every friend you have had. It should matter to <em>you</em>.” </p><p>She brushes a strand of Romana’s hair behind her ear, eyes soft. Romana tries to remember how to breathe. </p><p>Affection comes much more naturally to Leela; Romana sometimes still has to fight not to flinch away from moments like these, when she’s lit with a tingling warmth from head to toe, when there is more love in Leela’s eyes than she wants to accept. Believing in any sort of happiness grows more difficult with each report than lands on her desk. Romana has to be the CIA Coordinator that Gallifrey needs right now, and part of her insists loudly that that means stepping away from Leela, drawing up her walls, reminding her that they don’t have time for things as unimportant as companionship. As love.</p><p>But with Leela wrapped around her, it’s hard to remember why she’d ever dream of calling those unimportant. </p><p><em>Companionship. Love.</em> Other memories, emotions bubble to the surface against her will — it’s been a month since she woke up beside Narvin, it’s been longer since they stayed up after Leela had gone to sleep and didn’t talk about work at all. Those nights were her favorite time with him — the quiet of the late hours, the stories they told of their lives before they knew each other or topics of study they’d always found interesting but had never pursued. The hot tea they sipped as the conversation lulled, the comfort of resting her head on his shoulder as she tried not to yawn. The way it was always a challenge — which one of them gave in first, admitted that it was time to retire to the bedroom. Neither of them wanted to be the first to break that peace, the two of them pressed together side by side on the sofa, in familiar silence. </p><p><em>It matters that you are here after the Daleks tried to get rid of you. It matters to Narvin.</em> </p><p>She wants to believe Leela. She wants so badly to pretend. But the truth washes over her, that same cold shock that’s lingered for a month. He acted against the best interests of the universe. He ignored the pain, the <em>guilt</em>, that’s shuddered through her at every death the Daleks have caused since Etra Prime, deaths that only happened because <em>she</em> had to let the Daleks live. </p><p>It’s only when Leela kisses her cheek, gently, that Romana realizes there are tears leaking from her eyes yet again. She jerks away, tries to turn her head.</p><p>“Leela — ”</p><p>Leela rolls off of her, but she tugs on Romana’s arm, so they’re lying side by side, facing each other. “It has been a long time since you let yourself cry. You should not be afraid to.”</p><p>“I’m not afraid.”</p><p>“I will not think any less of you. I have shed many tears — ”</p><p>“And how often have <em>you</em> tried to hide them?”</p><p>Leela smiles wryly. “Much less than I used to, in the early years of our friendship.”</p><p>Romana blinks. “Were <em>you</em> afraid?”</p><p>“There are not many people on this world who care what I feel. It took me a long time to accept that you were one of them.”</p><p>Now Romana is the one to tighten her arm around Leela, touch their foreheads together. “I haven’t even asked. How you’ve been doing lately, with all of this. That says a lot about me, I suppose.”</p><p>Leela touches her cheek. “Sometimes you look so far out into the universe that you stop seeing the people around you.”</p><p>“I know.” She swallows. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I know that, too,” Leela says, sincere. “And I….I want to stop all this death. I want to make certain the Daleks can never hurt anyone ever again. But I do not feel like I am doing much to help.”</p><p>“Any intelligence we can gather helps.” Romana brushes Leela’s hair back from her shoulder. “And I know you being part of the CIA is, well. It’s complicated. But we’re losing more political support by the day, no matter how much work we’re doing or how many lives we’re saving, and I don’t know how many more agents will leave. I’m glad to have someone else around that I can trust.”</p><p>Leela raises her eyebrows. “Someone else?”</p><p>Romana flushes. “I meant — ”</p><p>“You <em>meant</em> that you do still trust Narvin.”</p><p>“You don’t know <em>who</em> I was referring to.”</p><p>“But <em>you</em> know.” Leela presses a kiss to her forehead. “And I know that I will feel better once you talk to each other.”</p><p>“I told you, I didn’t want you in the middle of this.”</p><p>“I am not <em>in the middle</em>. But you miss him — ”</p><p>“I do <em>not</em>.”</p><p>“ — <em>you miss him</em>, and so do I. Whatever he is doing out there in the universe to try to stop a war, it is wearing on both of you. And I — I worry.”</p><p>“He’ll be fine,” she replies, automatic. She ignores the way her hearts seize, before she squashes the possibility that one of these days, Narvin might not come back. (It’s one of the worst parts of being CIA Coordinator — she has to send other people out, day after day, while she stays behind.)</p><p>“And you? Will you be fine?” </p><p>Leela is too close, her eyes too sharp, for Romana to lie to her. </p><p>“I don’t know how he could have done this,” she whispers. “I don’t think this gets better between us, Leela. I’m sorry.”</p><p>The expression on Leela’s face is unreadable. She is still for a long moment before pulling away to sit up against the pillows. Romana lifts her head, shifting on the bed to match her position. </p><p>Leela takes Romana’s hand. “I know why he did it.”</p><p>“How could you know?” She inhales, sharp. “Leela, you didn’t — ”</p><p>“I was not involved in that mission,” she says, and Romana breathes out. “I did not know what Narvin did, he would not tell me, and it was long enough ago that I had forgotten it, until you told me what you learned.”</p><p>“Forgotten what?”</p><p>“It was after we returned from the Axis,” Leela says, quiet. “After you trapped the Daleks in the Matrix. There was a moment, after you sent us away, when we did not know that you had only left a copy of yourself in the Matrix. We thought — ” She hesitates, and Romana’s stomach twists. Suddenly, she doesn’t want to hear what Leela is about to say.</p><p>“We thought you were gone,” Leela finishes.</p><p>Her words sink in slowly, like a descending fog that chills, soaks, clings to her skin. </p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I have never seen Narvin that upset,” Leela says. Romana wants to tell her to stop, <em>stop</em>, but she can’t manage to speak. “He wanted to find a way to save you. No matter the cost.”</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>Romana tucks her knees to her chest, hides her face against them. What Leela is saying, it’s impossible. Narvin’s loyalty to Gallifrey, to the Laws of Time, is stronger than that of nearly any Time Lord. For him to betray those loyalties, there would have to be a good reason. An <em>impeccable</em> reason. </p><p>“You’re wrong,” she manages. “You must have misunderstood.”</p><p>“I did not.”</p><p>“Narvin would never do that,” she snaps. “He would never disregard the cost of a mission like that for so small a reason.”</p><p>Leela squeezes her hand, so tight it hurts. “Your life is <em>not</em> a small reason.”</p><p>“I am <em>one</em> person. And I’m supposed to believe that Narvin — <em>Narvin!</em> — would ever put one person over the planet? And <em>me</em>, of all people? When we got back from the Axis world, we barely saw each other! He disappeared back into the CIA and only spoke to me when he had to — does that sound like someone who would risk unraveling the Web of Time because he wanted to <em>save</em> me?”</p><p>Leela gives her a familiar look that means Romana is being incredibly stupid for someone so intelligent. “That sounds like someone who realized that he acted out of his feelings for you and made a mistake. That sounds like someone who was trying to run away from those feelings so he would not make another.”</p><p>“You’re wrong,” Romana whispers, but the confidence is crumbling from her voice.</p><p>It can’t be. It <em>can’t</em> be. Narvin was only re-establishing a professional distance. Making it clear that everything being back to normal meant the pair of them sticking to their own lives. <em>She</em> is the one who pushed, who stepped back into his world, she is the one who cared too much. Who still cares too much, no matter what he’s done.</p><p>“And what did you do?” Romana turns to Leela. “If you were there, then you just <em>let</em> this happen?”</p><p>“I told you, I did not know what he was planning! He was — agitated. He said he was going to do something risky, and I told him that even to save you, we could not risk all of time and space.” Her eyes are soft, apologetic. They shouldn’t be.</p><p>“<em>And?</em>”</p><p>“And he did not agree.” The apology doesn’t fade from her eyes.</p><p>Romana buries her face in her hands. Leela is rubbing gentle circles on her shoulder, and she can’t quite muster the energy to shake her off.</p><p>All these years — how did she let herself forget how dangerous loyalty is? How dangerous it is to convince people to follow her, to convince them that protecting her is <em>worth the risk</em>. Her skin crawls — she wants to take it back, every time she demanded that loyalty, every time she built that expectation that Narvin would follow her. </p><p>All these years — how did she convince herself that letting him this close was <em>good</em>? If he was willing to destroy the Daleks for her that long ago, how far would he go now that he — that she —</p><p>What has she <em>done</em>?</p><p>“Narvin should not have done what he did,” Leela murmurs. “But he did not mean to hurt anyone. He certainly did not mean to hurt <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“He <em>did</em>.” The words are half a sob, muffled against her hands. “He <em>knew</em> he would either break the timelines or anger the Daleks, he <em>knew</em> the cost. He <em>did</em> mean to hurt <em>someone</em>, and how could he possibly think that making that choice wouldn’t hurt <em>me</em>?”</p><p>“I doubt he was thinking much at all.”</p><p>“That doesn’t inspire much trust either.”</p><p>Leela wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Have you seen him, when he returns from his missions?”</p><p>“What does that matter?”</p><p>“Have you?’’</p><p>“Not really, no. He sends word to my office.”</p><p>“What he has done is eating at him, just as it’s eating at you. Ignoring each other will not make that go away.”</p><p>“So I’m just supposed to forgive him?” Romana slides into Leela’s embrace instinctively, letting Leela fold her arms around her. </p><p>“Talk to him,” Leela murmurs. “You do not have to forgive him, but you will not find any peace until you do.”</p><p>Romana almost laughs. How is she supposed to face Narvin, knowing that he apparently did all this for <em>her</em>, because his <em>stupid</em> loyalty spiraled out of control? How is she supposed to reconcile the churning inside of her, because she is more angry at him than he deserves and misses him more than she should?</p><p><em>Why</em> did he have to go and do something as ridiculous as care about her? <em>Why</em> did she have to go and do something as ridiculous as love him?</p><p>“Come here,” Leela says, and Romana doesn’t have the strength to argue. She hugs Leela close, burying her face in Leela’s shoulder. Together, they sink back down into the pillows, bodies just as tangled as they were when they fell asleep last night. </p><p>“You have time before morning.” Leela’s voice is a murmur against her ear. “You are tired, I am tired. You do not have to decide anything right now.”</p><p>Romana wants to believe her. She wants it so much that she lets herself listen to the rise and fall of Leela’s breath, losing herself in the warmth of Leela’s skin. She doesn’t get much sleep before she slips quietly away, stirring Leela awake for only a moment, but she does get some.</p><p>Months later, she will remember that night, for all its restless dreams and interruptions, as one of the last moments of peace in this war.</p><hr/>
<p>The office is quiet, the kind of quiet that means everyone is on high alert, silent and waiting for something to drop on all their heads. That quiet has grown and grown for weeks, months. Ever since a surprise Dalek attack wiped out most of the Monan colonists of a small, tempestuous world and left a web of time distortions in its wake.</p><p>(Romana didn’t sleep that night. Not all the colonists had been found dead, and it was the missing that scared her most.)</p><p>Narvin used to barge into her office at least twice a day. They used to whisper in the corridors together between meetings, making plans, backup plans. </p><p>Her day is the new normal: a meeting with her intelligence counterpart on the Sunari homeworld about the fallout from the Dalek attack. A meeting with the president to attempt to get her hands on the High Council meeting agenda for tomorrow. Livia’s been reluctant to share information ever since Romana had to reveal the CIA’s history with the Daleks to her. Every day, her military advisors grow stronger, and every day, the war the Matrix warns of grows more fixed. No matter what Narvin is doing out in the universe.</p><p>She’s read and reread his reports, trying to find hope hidden somewhere in the sparse sentences. He does save lives, sometimes. A ship snatched away before the Daleks can kill its crew and steal its supplies. A small world given enough shielding technology that the Daleks won’t waste their resources wrecking it just for show, not yet. (That’s what scares her most. The Daleks are holding back, she knows it. Trailing a line of destruction around the edge of the Temporal Powers. Circling and circling, and what comes next?)</p><p>It isn’t enough. Whatever Narvin is trying, and he <em>is</em> trying, it isn’t enough.</p><p>She’s reviewing the latest intelligence from the outskirts of the Monan system, trying to decide if she should recommend to Livia that they send another set of battle TARDISes as a deterrent, when Narvin’s message arrives. It’s short, curt, enough for her to know that he’s returned. </p><p>Without thinking, Romana rises from her desk, clicking off her screens. The path to the Deputy Coordinator’s office is well-trodden, but when she’s standing outside, she suddenly loses her breath.</p><p>“Coordinator?” His secretary blinks at her in surprise. “I don’t think he’s expecting you.”</p><p>“I know,” Romana says and pushes inside.</p><p>Narvin is sitting at his desk, but he isn’t doing any work. His head is in his hands, and an unsettling sensation drops in her stomach the moment she enters the room. Something’s wrong. </p><p>“Narvin?”</p><p>He looks up, but even the shock on his face isn’t enough to hide the deep-seating exhaustion, the tremor in his hands as they fold in front of him. His eyes are lost, too empty.</p><p>“You look awful.”</p><p>Romana is across the room before she realizes, and as she reaches out a hand on impulse, her fingers just brushing his, she realizes.</p><p>Narvin’s mental defenses are crumpled, shuddering. Flashes of thought, memory are leaking out even at the briefest of touches — a whirlwind snapping so fast she could easily get lost in it. Up close, his face is ashen. </p><p>She snatches her hand back. “What <em>happened</em> to you?”</p><p>He takes a deep, shuddering breath, evidently making an effort to pull himself together, but he can’t hide the weariness in his voice. “I’ll have the debrief by the end of the day. Didn’t you get my message?”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“Then why are you here?” It’s accusation and shield all in one. His shoulders are tensed, braced for whatever he expects her to throw at him. </p><p>She doesn’t say anything. She can’t explain to herself why she came here — it certainly wasn’t just because Leela told her to. Maybe she wants to hear the truth from him. Maybe she poured enough anger out last night that now she’s dry, empty. Maybe she did just miss him.</p><p>“Well?” he whispers.</p><p>Impulse has carried her so far today. Romana gives into it once more and snatches the smaller chair from the side of the room, dragging it over to Narvin’s side of the desk as he looks on in bewilderment. She takes his hand, this time braced against the flood leaking from his mind, and holds tight. </p><p>“What did this to you?”</p><p>He swallows. “I had a run-in with an Eminence casket.”</p><p>“You <em>what?</em>”</p><p>“The details — Romana, please. There’s no imminent danger, I’ll tell you later.” Narvin’s gritting his teeth, staring deliberately anywhere but at her. The look in her eyes — he’s trying not to cry.</p><p>“I don’t care if there’s no imminent danger. You’ve clearly experienced some kind of psychic assault, you should be resting — ”</p><p>“I’m supposed to leave Gallifrey again tomorrow morning. When exactly do you think I have time for rest?” This time Narvin does manage to snatch his hand from hers, but the echoes of the psychic leaking linger, swirling. He buries his face in his hands.</p><p>“Then don’t go tomorrow.”</p><p>“That isn’t an option. If there’s  chance I could prevent this — ”</p><p>“I don’t know if there is any chance anymore!”</p><p>“But if there <em>is</em> the slightest — ”</p><p>“It’s not worth it,” she snaps, her hand gripping his arm. “Not if it kills you.”</p><p>Narvin lifts his head, brow furrowed. Some tension Romana didn’t realize she was holding leaves her shoulders — the last of the anger she wanted to throw at him. It’s impossible now, seeing how much he would run himself into the ground if it meant undoing what he did. Feeling flashes of his regret, his confusion over her concern, slip from his mind to hers. </p><p>Feeling the understanding coil in her stomach, an understanding she didn’t want to face, but has to now. How much it hurts, seeing him throw himself against the might of the Dalek war machine. How much she wants to fix it, to stop him. And she wouldn’t pay any price for that outcome, but the universe isn’t demanding any price. All she has to do is call off these increasingly futile scouting missions before one day, he doesn’t come back. </p><p>“I didn’t think you were speaking to me,” he manages, mostly in a whisper.</p><p>“I didn’t think I was either,” Romana says. Her grip on his arm tightens, and she stretches out her mind, tentatively tiptoeing across the buffeting winds of his. She tries to ignore what’s behind the tatters of his mental defenses, but a flash sneaks through — <em>can’t give in, pushing, pushing, screaming</em> — and she’s shuddering at the onslaught. When her mind brushes his, she doesn’t try to establish proper contact. But she’s close enough to offer her own impressions — anything soothing that she can manage, anything that can help take some of the burden of pain from him, so he can concentrate on rebuilding what was lost.</p><p>A new emotion radiates out from Narvin, something in between shock and affection, but deeper and more complicated than either. His hands fall to his lap, and she’s holding them, her eyes closed. Her breath as even as she can make it, all her worry for him carefully locked away in her own mind, where it can’t disturb him. </p><p>She’s never been good at comfort, at saying the right words. But she doesn’t need words for this.</p><p>They stay that way for a long time, enough for the storm roiling out of Narvin’s mind to fade, for something to stabilize, even if it’s far from healed. Romana lets go of his hands, and both of them open their eyes, sitting knee to knee behind his desk.</p><p>“I meant it, when I said you should rest,” Romana says, breaking the stillness. “If I see you in this office at all for the rest of the day, I’m telling Leela.” She suppresses a smile. “Come to think of it, I’m telling Leela anyways. She’s not leaving for the moons of Falken until late tomorrow. She has a training session this afternoon, but they can spare her if you’re going to be difficult.”</p><p>Narvin rubs his temples. “It’s difficult to tell if you’re actually threatening me or not.”</p><p>“That’s entirely up to you.”</p><p>He lowers his hands. “I meant — thank you.”</p><p>She nods.</p><p>“But I still don’t understand,” he adds. “A span ago, I was fairly certain you never wanted to see me again.”</p><p>Romana twists her hands in her lap. “Don’t joke about that. Not now.”</p><p>Narvin shakes his head. “I know you’re angry at me.”</p><p>“I am.” She straightens her shoulders. “You put <em>so much</em> at risk.”</p><p>“If I could take it back, I would,” he whispers, staring at the ground. “If I could change it, I would.”</p><p>Romana swallows. “Because there ended up being no point to that particular mission anyways? Or because you <em>actually</em> know better?”</p><p>Narvin looks up, suddenly pale. “What do you mean, no point?”</p><p>“Leela told me.”</p><p>“She — ” Narvin closes his eyes. “Romana — ”</p><p>“Is it true?” she whispers. “Did you really do it for — for <em>me</em>?”</p><p>She can practically see the breath freeze in his lungs. He doesn’t manage to say anything for several nanospans, his breath heaving in and out, his mouth contorting but failing to speak.</p><p>“It was a mistake,” he says finally, hoarsely. “If I had waited longer, I would have realized that you had the situation under control.”</p><p>Now Romana is the one to look away, turning her face so she can scrub her eyes without him seeing. The memory of that feeling from earlier, the weight of something deeper than affection, returns, and it drops in her stomach, cold and heavy. She didn’t ask for him to care this much. </p><p>“Don’t you dare — ” Her voice cracks as she turns to jab a finger at him. “Don’t you <em>ever</em> do it again. I don’t <em>care</em> if I don’t have the situation under control, I don’t <em>care</em>, you don’t put my life ahead of every other person on this planet, every person in this universe. We are hurtling towards <em>war</em>, Narvin, I have enough to worry about without making sure my deputy doesn’t do something <em>idiotic</em>.”</p><p>Narvin nods.</p><p>She jabs again. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”</p><p>“I promise,” he whispers.</p><p>She exhales, a long, slow breath, and nods. </p><p>They stay that way for a moment, each of them trying to recover the composure they’ve long since discarded. It doesn’t feel right, seeing him with his guard down, letting down her own, in this particular room. It feels like they’ve scribbled over the lines between work and home, between their professional partnership and their personal relationship. </p><p>This is the last time she can allow that to happen. </p><p>“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” Narvin says.</p><p>“I don’t know, Narvin. But whatever you did, whatever the consequences….” She breathes out. “I <em>do</em> know that you would never have wanted any of this to happen. And Leela’s right, whatever has been going on between us for the past few weeks — we can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep risking your life as some kind of penance, or punishment, and I can’t just ignore you. Frankly, I don’t <em>want</em> to ignore you.”</p><p>“Well. That feeling is mutual.”</p><p>Romana bites her lip. “Narvin. We can’t just go back to the way things were, either.”</p><p>He stares, waiting.</p><p>“I just saw the agenda for tomorrow’s High Council meeting. There’s a proposal on the table to give more autonomy to Livia’s favorite military committee. General Trave has been pushing for this since it was created, but I think he might actually have the votes.”</p><p>“What’s in the proposal?”</p><p>“Dramatically expanded budget and personnel, ability to fast-track new legislative measures, removing the need to run legal policies by the High Council before enactment.” Romana shakes her head. “At this rate, Trave’s building an organization to rival the High Council’s own power. Or the CIA’s.”</p><p>“You really think so?”</p><p>“I do. Tell me — is there any chance that the mission tomorrow could prevent war with the Daleks?”</p><p>“It’s unlikely.” He grips the seat of his chair. “No.”</p><p>“So that’s settled.” Romana sits back. “I need my Deputy Coordinator <em>here</em>, on Gallifrey. And I want one of us ready and on call at all times — we can rotate our sleep schedules, make sure we’re not caught napping if the Daleks decide they want to come to <em>our </em> door this time.”</p><p>Narvin inhales, sharp. He understands the implications of what she’s saying. </p><p>“Is this really because of what the Daleks are doing?” He hesitates. “Or is this because of what I did?”</p><p>“It <em>is</em> because of the Daleks. Keeping Gallifrey as far away from this as best we can has to be our first priority. Our only priority.” Romana stares at her hands. “But I think — I think it’s best we don’t see each other outside of work anymore.” </p><p>Narvin folds his hands on the desk, his voice quiet. “I see.”</p><p>“This isn’t a punishment.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“It’s just — it’s too complicated.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>Her stomach twists, and Romana reaches out suddenly, laying her hand on top of his. </p><p>“I did mean it,” she says. “About getting some rest.”</p><p>She stands and drags the chair back to where she found it. Narvin stands too, and she almost expects him to follow her to the door, but he stays where he is, the desk between them. </p><p>“Pass the agenda along to me,” he says. “I’ll take a look at it before I leave.”</p><p>“Only a quick look.”</p><p>“Of course. But you’re right, we need to keep an eye on this committee.”</p><p>“The War Council.” The words are ash in her mouth. “That’s what Trave and Livia have started calling it.”</p><p>Narvin meets her eyes, his face still lined with exhaustion, pale and haggard. As she leaves his office, the door hissing closed behind her, he doesn’t say anything at all.</p>
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